


Collage

by FoxRafer



Series: Trick or Treat 2011 [5]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>2011 Halloween treat for caras_galadhon. Inspired by <a href="http://jpgmag.com/photos/2422603">this picture</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Collage

**Author's Note:**

> 2011 Halloween treat for caras_galadhon. Inspired by [this picture](http://jpgmag.com/photos/2422603).

They weren't even halfway through the promotional cycle before Sean had the stories memorized. Thanks to most of the cast and crew, a kind of mythology had quickly been built around Viggo, and pretty soon every reporter was prepped to repeat it. They all were dealing with the endless monotony of unoriginal questions, but Viggo's had taken on a life of their own, and he seemed to shift between annoyance and amusement at being presented as this living, breathing Aragorn descended from the heavens to save the film.

The collage Viggo made of his makeup mirror had become part of the "renaissance man" story arc; Sean was sure he'd contributed to that anecdote as well. But as impressive as that impromptu work of art and memory was, Sean knew of something far more significant, something he would never share, not even with friends or family. It started on a whim, fueled by shots of tequilla and the buzz from overheated skin. They'd traded doodles on bar napkins all night, alone in a booth shared by hobbits and elves. Heads bent together, voices low, exchanging secrets through the spiral and geometry of ink on soft paper.

It was the first night Sean accepted Viggo's invitation to crash at his place, to not return to the sterility of his hotel room. They'd simply flopped on their backs in the middle of Viggo's bed staring at the ceiling, exhausted and slightly giddy as the warmth in the air around them slowly rose, as the intimacy in the moment steadily grew. Sean believed he could feel himself growing from the inside, something intangible swelling within him until he found it hard to keep still. He fished around in his pockets until he'd snagged one of the napkins he'd saved, then stood with slightly wobbly legs on the bed, sticking the napkin to the ceiling with a wad of gum. The edges flopped toward the floor, his masterpiece a victim of gravity, obscuring the drawings from view. But just when he was about to tear it down, he nearly fell over as Viggo suddenly bounded from the bed, returning a moment later with a roll of scotch tape and his own saved napkin in hand. They secured the paper to the ceiling, triumphantly turning toward each other, and the shift from friendship was complete.

The ceiling montage grew from there, spreading across the entire room before Sean left New Zealand. Postcards, drawings and sketches, ticket stubs and scraps of paper from theater or sports programs, Yahtzee score cards and pages torn from sheet music, notes scrawled in the margins and between the bars. A collection formed from lives newly shared, the beginning of a new story they were writing together. When Sean returned to London, every night they'd reach across the miles, talking about this and that, Viggo focusing on one created memory after another as he listened to Sean's voice, allowed its timbre to accompany him into sleep.

As Viggo's time in New Zealand grew short, Sean returned and they stretched out on the bedroom floor, staring at what they'd created. They didn't need it to retain the memory, but they wanted it to capture that moment in time when their friendship transformed into vibrant light. Pictures seemed the most practical choice, and that week they took multiple images of every inch, moved around each other in a determined dance, necks craning for the best angles, hands pausing in their mission for small touches of grazing fingertips. Sean continued while Viggo worked on final scenes, and every evening they came together beneath the patchwork ceiling, continuing to collect the months of shared inspiration that kept their hearts close.

Neither has ever talked about it; it is a story saved for private moments when only two pairs of ears can hear. Their collage is preserved in hundreds of photographs, an array of individual shots they can revisit at will. But before beginning Fellowship's whirlwind promotion, they finally finished one large panorama of the entire array, mounted on their London bedroom wall, a second to be finished soon for Venice Beach. And as Sean sits through another round of reporters, listens as Viggo is asked once more about what he made on his makeup mirror, he smiles at the memory of a more personal creation, one that started with two sets of scrawled doodles on bar napkins fluttering overhead the night he fell in love.


End file.
